


Devout

by ante_raybitch



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Brother Modric, Heavily inspired by the wondrous force of nature that is the No Good Gang TM, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Priest!Luka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 23:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ante_raybitch/pseuds/ante_raybitch
Summary: Mario has struggled to fill the void in his chest his entire life, trying to cope as best as he could. One fateful night he finds himself on the doorstep of a small chapel, and there, by the altar, he finds a heavenly vision with a head of golden locks shining like a halo that will turn his life around.





	Devout

   Mario never felt closer to God than in those rare moments, late at night, when he held Luka in his embrace, in the sparsely furnished, ascetic room lit by a single candle. Looking at the smaller man, his golden lock encircling his head almost like a halo, he was overwhelmed by a sense of serenity that had eluded him in his life outside the walls of the monastery. Luka’s sweet, slow breaths tickled his bare chest, easing his mind and sending him into a peaceful sleep.

   In his youth he had tried relentlessly to find a remedy to the hole he felt deep in his chest. At first he was content with the momentary distraction of a fight, where the only things he truly felt were the ache in his fists and the rage burning hot and white in his head. It didn’t last as long as he would have liked, but for the time being, it was enough.

   As he grew up, he found other ways to cope. Football became his new escape – being a part of a team, something bigger than himself, felt better than anything he had experienced before, and he reveled in that. When he was on the pitch he had no time to think of anything but the next pass, the next shot. The game filled him with a sense of pride, with a sense of belonging.

   Only when he was laying in bed at night, his thoughts would whirl wildly in his head, not giving him a moment of peace, and he knew that as good as playing the beautiful game felt, it would never quite fill this emptiness inside him. The silence and the darkness were suffocating him, so he slid out of bed, quickly dressing up and going out to take in a bit of fresh air and clear his head.

   The streets were completely deserted save for him. The whole city was asleep under the deep cover of the night, and the only light was coming from the crescent moon shining above his head. As he mindlessly wandered, not really giving any mind to where he was going, he found himself in front of a small chapel with dimly lit windows that stood in stark contrast with its surroundings. Noticing the door was ajar, Mario followed a small noise in the back of his head telling him to go inside. The few steps he took echoed in the quiet temple, before he was stopped dead in his tracks. There, by the altar, he saw something he could only describe with one word.  
Divine.

   A modestly dressed priest knelt in prayer, his gaze fixed to the altar above him, blonde hair illuminated by the candles burning near him. Mario could not move or tear his gaze from the small frame of the other man. It felt like ages before the priest finished his prayer, slowly stood up and made his way towards him, not unsettled in the least. When he finally spoke, asking Mario why he was in the chapel at this late hour, his voice was soft, bearing no sign of a reprimand. The words stuck at his throat, Mario had just stood there blankly, trying desperately to form a coherent sentence but failing miserably, and he was worried that the other man would throw him out. Instead, the priest smiled at him weakly, put a reassuring hand on Mario’s back and guided him to one of the wooden benches. They stood in silence for some time before Mario felt words slip out of his mouth into the silence of the night. Slowly, deliberately, he told the other about how he came to be in that secluded corner of the city in that fateful night. After he left the chapel he felt better than he had in a long time. He felt serene.

   With time these visits to the chapel became a regular thing for him. They fell into an easy routine, reveling in the moments they shared. The priest – Brother Luka, was always there, more often listening to Mario than speaking of his own life. With each passing visit Luka etched his constant, reassuring presence, easy confidence and kind smile deep into his heart. Not long after, as he was sitting on one of the benches in the back row, waiting for Luka to finish his prayer, Mario understood more clearly than ever what he had always known in his heart from the day the two of them first met: he was in love with Luka. It was unlike anything he had ever known, like an uncanny mixture of heaven and hell. He felt dizzy, and stood up and left without as much as uttering a word.

   It was natural, he thought, that he would fall in love with Luka – he was perfect, an immaculately pure vision of heaven on this earth. And Mario didn’t deserve him at the least. In a heartbeat the source of his happiness had suddenly turned into an instrument of torture. He stopped going to the chapel altogether. It was easier, he said to himself. Out of sight, out of mind. Having Luka right there, within an arm’s length without being able to touch him would be too much to handle. No, Mario had to be as distant as possible. He couldn’t allow himself to corrupt this angelic being. He couldn’t afford to be that selfish. (Luka had rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit)

   He tried pouring all of his emotions into football again, but it was no longer enough, his thoughts kept relentlessly flying back to the late hours at the chapel. He desperately needed to get rid of them, and the only way he knew was to fight. Just like when he was little, the thrill of the fight would erase everything from his mind, leave him blank. As soon as he kept doing that, he could have a moment’s peace.

   He overestimated himself. (Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, choosing to punish himself). Walking into a fight with that large group was well over his capabilities. He could hold his ground against two, maybe three of them, but he had no chance against six. Bloody and bruised, he could barely stand on his feet. He took a couple of hesitant steps before he collapsed on the pavement with a groan. From where he was laying on the ground, he could see the moon and the stars. He heard steps approaching him but just couldn’t move, not by an inch. Someone knelt beside him, and suddenly Luka’s worried face appeared before his eyes. Mario would have thought it a mirage, had it not been for the smaller man’s hands under his back, trying to lift him up. They struggled for a while; Luka was surprisingly strong, but Mario was much taller than him and getting up from that pavement and making their way back to the chapel proved to be an ordeal. When they finally reached their destination, Luka led him to his room and gently laid him on his bed before disappearing somewhere. Mario was left there, too overwhelmed by the pain in his limbs to deliberate over the situation he was in. After a few moments Luka came back holding a small bucket of water and a washcloth, and started nursing Mario’s wounds with trembling hands.

“ _Why did you stop coming to the chapel, Mario?_ ” Luka’s voice was soft as always, but there was an edge of hurt in it.

   Mario’s tongue felt like lead, heavy and unyielding.

“ _I thought being here helped you feel better. What changed? Did... did I do something wrong?_ ”

His tone wrenched Mario’s heart. He realized how selfish he had been, how much he had hurt Luka by just leaving him with no answer. Still the words did not come easy to him.

“ _Luka… I…I’m so sorry….I…_ ” Mario doubted he would be any more coherent even without the pain clouding his mind. I am a coward, he wanted to say, a coward and a selfish bastard. I should have been content with your friendship. It should have been enough.

   Luka was still looking into his eyes, the childlike innocence of his gaze clouded with worry. And fear. It was more than Mario could take.

“ _I love you. I’m sorry._ ” He had gone past the point of no return now, and his instincts were telling him to flee again. He just couldn’t, not in the state that he was in right now. Once those first words were uttered, there was no stopping. “ _I love you and it kills me to know that I could never be with you, and now I’ve ruined our friendship…I’m disgusting…I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess…_ ”

   A tear trickled down his face. Luka set the washcloth aside to brush it off, and his delicate finger burned on Mario’s cheek. This jolted him out of his trance, and Mario suddenly rose up on his elbows, trying to get up. Luka’s hand on his chest steeled him in his place.

“ _Mario, don’t. Don’t do this to us again._ ” There was a steely resolve in his voice.

   Mario doesn’t move, neither to leave, nor to lie back, and after what feels like an eternity, Luka moves his hand up from his chest to gently caress his cheek. Mario closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feeling as best as he can. He didn’t think he would ever get anything more than this.  
His eyes shot open when he felt the pressure of two warm lips on his mouth. Was he dreaming? Had he died on that pavement and gone to paradise? Impossible, Mario knew that even if Heaven and Hell did exist, he would never make it to the former. The only possible explanation left was that he was very much alive and Luka was kissing him. He felt inexplicably at peace, his worries washed away, and the only thing on his mind was Luka’s smell and his taste. How could he have run away from this? He should have stayed and reveled in this bliss all along.

   The kiss was short and sweet (just like Luka). After they were separated Luka leaned his forehead on Mario’s, and the taller man used this opportunity to run his hand through his lover’s golden locks. After a while Luka moved away.

“ _We’d better get that shirt off and wash it before the stains damage it too much._ ”

   Mario nodded slightly in agreement. He tried to reach out and undo the buttons but his hands betrayed him, bloody knuckles aching with every small movement. Luka gently moved his hands aside, and said “Here, let me.” He quickly undid the buttons of the shirt and slid it off Mario’s shoulders, lifting him up a little so he could get it out from under his back. Then he disappeared once again, leaving Mario laying on the bed in a blissful silence. He closed his eyes and replayed the kiss in his head over and over again, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips. He only opened them when he heard Luka’s footsteps creak on the wooden floors. The smaller man carefully lay beside him, resting his head on Mario’s chest.

“ _Next time you are perplexed, don’t run away. Talk to me. It will be easier. Probably less painful too._ ” Mario let out a small laugh at that.

“ _I will make note of that. No promises though. You know I’m no good._ ”

   They didn’t talk much after that, but drifted in a comfortable silence. For once in his life, Mario didn’t feel empty or incomplete before going to sleep. He had found his faith in this wonderful saint of a man. He was determined to follow it devotedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This is my first attempt at writing a fic. I would love to hear what you think about it :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
